


A Price to Pay

by PuffleHuff90



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beating, Choking, Mind Games, Stabbing, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuffleHuff90/pseuds/PuffleHuff90
Summary: Harry knows that the fate of the Wizarding War resides with the information Dumbledore has entrusted him with, but can he survive long enough to relay to someone else? On the night of Professor Dumbledore's death, Harry is captured and brought before Voldemort.  The Dark Lord is very interested to find out where Harry was that night and will stop at nothing to force the truth from him.This started out as a one-shot, but I decided to split it up into a few short chapters. Really, I was just in the mood to write a torture fic. Hope you guys enjoy!
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Harry cursed the emotions waging war inside his body; anger, fear, and grief, all fighting to be felt over the others until they crashed together in an overwhelming mixture that made his head swim. He drew in a steadying breath, filling his lungs with cold cellar air before exhaling slowly. The tightness in his chest eased and he opened his eyes to survey the room once again. 

The basement was the same as it had been the hour before; stone pillars and empty space. For a moment he considered pacing around the parameter again, just to be sure he hadn't missed something; however, he doubted that anything had changed from the previous three trips around. No, he was better off conserving his energy for whatever was about to happen.

He wasn't exactly sure how long he had been in that room. The last thing he could remember was the sweet smell of wet grass after being blasted off his feet while screaming at Snape. He had awoken on the stone floor sometime later, disoriented and completely alone. 

The sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention to the iron grated door blocking the exit. Mentally, he began to prepare himself for whatever was to come, for whatever pain he was about to experience. He knew, deep down, there was no hope of escape. With Dumbledore gone… Tears prickled the corners of his eyes and despite his best efforts, they began to streak down his dirt-covered cheeks. 

Shadows appeared on the steps beyond the door, shifting ominously as their owners descended into the cellar. Without warning, fire burst to life in the sconces around the room, lighting the space with a warm dancing glow. Harry refused to stand, even when the lock clicked open and two men entered; he remained seated, his knees drawn up to his chest in a silent protest. 

Voldemort was the first through the door followed shortly by Severus Snape. Harry locked eyes with his Professor for the length of a heartbeat, his anger surging forward urging him to attack; instead, he turned away, all to aware of how foolish that would be.

"What a night it has been," Voldemort said and Harry could hear the joy ringing in his words; the sickly sweet sound of a pompous victor."My Death Eaters return with victorious news and then they bring me a present to go along with it." 

Lips pressed tight, Harry forced a lopsided grin but never looked up from his clasped hands resting atop his knees. He bit back the derisive response that had crept into the back of his mind, choosing instead to remain silent.

"However, I do have some questions that need answers, Harry," he continued with a step forward. "Stand up here and tell me where you were tonight?" 

Harry hesitated for a minute and then reluctantly rose to his feet, stalling for time as his mind raced with plausible answers. He dusted the grime from his hands on the sides of his grass-stained jeans and then looked up at Voldemort. The arrogant look on the face staring back made him throw caution to the wind. 

"You want a complete recap from dinner or can I skip straight to when I went to bed," Harry asked sarcastically, his voice ruff from lack of use.

Instead of looking cross, Voldemort's lips pulled into a triumphant smile. "So you're saying you were in the dormitories tonight?"

Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion and he crossed his arms over his chest. Did Voldemort know more than he was letting on? Was he setting up some clever trap? Either way, there was no going back now. 

"Until the fighting started," Harry corrected. 

Voldemort tilted his head slightly and chuckled. "If you would have said anywhere else, I might have believed you, Potter," he said softly. "However, we both know that isn't true." 

Swallowing back the anxiety rising in his chest, Harry splayed his hands, palms up. "I don't know what you mean. I…" 

"Do not lie to me, boy," Voldemort snapped. He took another step forward and Harry fought back the urge to retreat. "My Death Eaters said that your friends were standing guard when they arrived." 

"I never asked anyone to stand guard," Harry spat vehemently."I was in bed…" 

SNAP.

A hot wave rushed across Harry's cheek, catching the remaining words in his throat. He turned his head to the side long enough for the stinging to subside before raising a defiant glare.

"I. Was. In. Bed," he said slowly as if speaking to a toddler, each word punctuated with visible hate. 

"I am no fool, Potter," said Voldemort. "I…" 

"You could have fooled me," Harry interjected carelessly. 

A force collided with his face again, a thousand times stronger than the slap before. Harry staggered backwards clutching his cheek as pain seeped down deep into his bone. With his vision obscured, he leaned against the rough cellar wall, doubling over for stability. The bitter taste of copper filled his mouth and he instinctively ran his tongue along his back molars, checking for any missing teeth. Instead, he found a deep gash along the inside of his gums, warm blood gushing out to coat his tongue. 

A hand wove into his hair, it's long fingernails scraping softly against his scalp. He tried to pull away, but the wall held him steady. He was trapped. 

"Harry, don't make this harder than it has to be," Voldemort whispered in mock concern running his fingers through Harry's hair once again. 

Spitting the blood that had gathered quickly in his mouth, Harry tried again to pull away from Voldemort's grasp, but the wizard tightened his grip, yanking him upright. With a sharp tug, Harry was steered backwards until his back collided with the wall and he was forced to stare up into Voldemort's face, his neck arched at an awkward angle. 

"I was in the astronomy tower," he growled through crimson-stained teeth. He figured now was the best time to change his story without acquiring anymore suspicion. "I knew Malfoy was planning something so I asked a few friends to keep an eye out." 

The hand in his hair pulled away allowing him to straighten back to full height. Spitting another mouthful of blood tonyhr floor, he carefully wiped his lips with the sleeve of his shirt, staining the dirty material further.

"That would have been the lie I would have led with," the Dark Lord said ruefully. "However, it begs the question why you would lie about it in the first place."

Harry opened his mouth, ready to argue his case but the Dark Lord held up a hand, silencing him before he could even start. 

"Let me save us some time. The young Malfoy boy informed me that there were two broomsticks atop the tower when he arrived. A simple detail I might have usually overlooked; however, Severus has enlightened me on your private studies with the Headmaster throughout the term year." 

"Has he?" Harry's gaze landed on Snape, lips twisting into a loathsome smirk. The man remained stoic. "Well then, it seems whatever I have to say is useless. Why don't you ask your dog these questions?" This drew the corner of Snape's mouth into a familiar sneer that fanned Harry's anger into a burning inferno.

"I am asking you," growled Voldemort, grabbing Harry's chin between his icy fingers, recapturing his attention. "Where were you and the Headmaster tonight?" 

It was futile to argue, Harry could see that now, but he couldn't tell the truth either. If Voldemort knew they had stolen the Horcrux from that cave, he was as good as dead and without Dumbledore, he was the only one that knew about the remaining Horcruxes. So, mind set on survival, Harry stared back into those burning red eyes with a defiant scowl and forced his shoulders to shrug. 

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, and Harry could see the rising tide of rage slowly creeping into the man's demeanor. Gone was the Cheshire cat smile that had mocked him from the start, replaced, instead, with gritted teeth, biting back the impulse to kill him with a simple curse. It would be so easy to push him just a little further and be done with everything; however, Harry knew the selfishness of that wish. Instead, he remained silent, watching as ideas raced through his enemy's mind until the cruel grin returned. 

Releasing Harry's chin, Voldemort examined the boy's set face before breaking the tense silence that had settled around them. "Muggles really do have the right idea when it comes to torture," he said, slowly pocketing his wand inside the interior pocket of his cloak. "The Cruciatus curse is, of course, sufficient; however, it lacks a personal touch." He raised his hand again, long fingers resting softly around Harry's neck.

"However," he continued "They all have their drawbacks as well. Take choking for example. You have to worry about how much pressure you're putting on the neck. You don't want to end up killing them accidentally."

Harry willed himself to remain calm, resisting the instinctive pull to slap the hand away. However, as the grip tightened he found his hands coming up to pull at the cold fingers now blocking his airway, and then frantically begin pushing against the body pinning him mercilessly to the hard wall. He grabbed at the black woolen material of Voldemort's cloak sleeves, twisting it as he tried to throw off the older man. It was all in vain, however. 

"The beauty of magic is, I don't have to worry about those drawbacks," Voldemort hissed in Harry's ear as he pressed his entire weight against Harry in an attempt to counter his thrashing.

Both hands were around his throat now, squeezing until he could no longer draw even the slightest of breath. The edges of his vision grew darker as the ringing in his ears grew louder. He could feel his lungs pleading for air as they throbbed in rhythm with his pounding heart. Screwing up his face, he tried to cough but he could feel his movements becoming weaker as he slipped into unconsciousness. 

Harry awoke gasping in breath after deep breath of stale air. His lungs and throat burned as they stretched to accommodate the rapid amounts of oxygen they were greedily trying to consume. Coughing violently, he rolled to his side and clutched at his ribs. 

"Welcome back, Harry." 

Voldemort's amused voice came from somewhere to his right. Opening his watering eyes, he found the man crouched beside him, wand tapping absent-mindedly against the palm of his hand. Cautiously, he rubbed his hand along his throat grimacing as pain radiated along each side. It was a miracle his windpipe was still intact. 

"I would be careful if I were you," the wizard mocked. "You have a nasty bump where your head hit the floor." 

Harry immediately reached up to examine the left side of his head. Sure enough, a large knot had blossomed beneath his sticky hair and his fingertips came away coated in crimson. He swallowed back the nausea that had been slowly rising in the back of his ravaged throat and rolled to his knees. He took several slow steady breaths but found it impossible to rise to his feet.

"Now, why don't you tell me where you really were tonight."


	2. Two

Harry shook his head and winced at the pain that traveled down his neck in response. Slowly, he managed to find his feet, though as he stood the ringing in his ears returned and the room swayed around him. He stumbled to his left, arms outstretched in a comical attempt to steady himself; however, it was the strong grip on his shoulders that kept him from falling back to the floor. 

"Come now, Potter. Let us end this with some dignity still intact."

"Let go," Harry managed to growl, though each word felt like fire in his lungs. He shrugged his shoulders free and stumbled backward until he could brace himself against the wall. Adjusting his glasses back to the bridge of his nose, he turned a glowering stare to a slightly hazy Voldemort. 

The Dark Lord shook his head with a soft chuckle. "You are persistent, boy, I will give you that." 

The man closed the space between them and before Harry could stop himself, he flinched away. The cold high-pitch laugh that met him was humiliating. 

"Tell me where you were, Harry, and we will stop. It is as simple as that." 

"In the astronomy tower," he seethed without looking up. 

Voldemort heaved a dramatic sigh and casually gave his wand a flick. From mid-air a wooden chair appeared, its legs clattering loudly against the hard floor as it landed. Without warning, the man grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt and shoved him into the waiting seat. Harry tried to scramble up but ropes appeared, winding themselves tightly around his arms and legs, securing him in place. 

"So be it. What shall we try next," Voldemort asked casually; however, it seemed he already had an idea in mind. 

A flash of steel caught Harry's eye, drawing his attention down to the dagger that Voldemort now held in his right hand. It was elegantly slim and simple with a handle made of ashen wood. The sight of it made Harry's heart drop into his stomach and he struggled against his bonds with newfound vigor.

Voldemort knelt down until they were eye to eye, a crazed grin adorning his narrow face. He placed the tip of the knife against the center of Harry's thigh and watched as fear overtook every feature of Harry's face. 

"That's better," he whispered softly, "Now, where were you?" 

"I already told…" 

The rest of his sentence was lost as the tip of the knife sank past his jeans and through the first several layers of skin, separating them with ease. Harry sucked in a shallow breath through grinding teeth and quickly looked away. He couldn't bear to see the dark circle spreading across his jeans as blood slowly seeped out from around the blade. 

"My lord," Snape's voice rang out from near the door. "Potter's Occlumency is dismal at best. Might I suggest using Legilimency instead?" 

Harry's turned a glowering stare in Snape's direction. There was no way he could defend himself if Voldemort decided to look into his mind. It would take only mere seconds for him to find what he was looking for. 

Voldemort also turned his attention to Snape, however, the look he gave him was one of pure amusement. "Have you grown soft for the boy, Severus," he goaded. 

"Of course not," scoffed Snape. "I only fear that if Potter bleeds out, the information he has will be lost." 

"That's why I had you bring the vials of blood replenishing potion. And besides," Voldemort turned his hungry red eyes back to Harry, "he's about to tell me everything I want to know." 

The end of that statement was punctuated by another push of the handle which sent the knife deeper into Harry's leg, dividing layer after layer of muscle and ligaments. Harry couldn't contain the cry that rose from his chest to echo hauntingly around the room. Tears filled his eyes, clinging momentarily to his lower lid before inevitably streaking down his face. 

"Where were you?" 

"Th-the astron-" 

"Before that," Voldemort snapped with a small twist of his wrist.

"Din-ner," Harry managed to stammer, finding it easier to hide the truth within true statements. Thoughts were coming slower as his mind fogged with pain.

This earned him the hardest jab yet. The knife sank down only stopping when it struck bone. The cry that came from his lips was inhuman; shrill and jagged. His back arched away from the chair in a hopeless attempt of escaping the pain shooting through every nerve in his body. The ropes burned deep red whelps into his wrist as he twisted them, praying they would give way.

"STOP…PLEASE," he cried out as his hands gripped the chair arms, fingernails digging into the soft wood. He had become all too aware of the pounding of his heart and the warm liquid now cascading down his leg to fill his trainers with each rapid beat. 

"Now we are getting somewhere," Voldemort cooed. "Where were you tonight?" 

"With Dumbledore!" He hated himself more with each word that escaped his trembling mouth, but he couldn't handle the feeling of the knife tip dragging against his femur with each twitch of his foot. His mouth had become increasingly dry and he shut his eyes to the room closing in around him. "I'll t-tell you. Just…just please stop." 

A wet, sticky hand grabbed his chin, pulling his face back down to stare at the gruesome scene below. The ashen handle, now stained with a carmine coating, was the only thing protruding from Harry's thigh. Harry had never seen the amount of blood now pooled beneath him. Droplets dripped from the seat of the chair, tumbling down to ripple across the dark puddle that reflected the flickering torches above. 

A malicious grin was spread across Voldemort's thin lips revealing a line of white teeth. "I'm going to remove the knife, Harry but first I want you to see what will happen if you do not tell me everything. We will start this all again. Do I make myself clear?" 

Despite every part of him screaming not to agree, Harry nodded.

"Good lad," praised the Dark Lord.

With a sharp pull, the knife dislodged from the skin, a trail of blood following in its wake. Harry let out another cry, tossing his head back as a wave of nausea rolled over him. Taking in several shallow breaths, he tried to steady himself but it was becoming progressively harder to keep his eyes open. Each blink lasted a little longer and his thoughts became jumbled. Was he dying? He was suddenly aware of how cold he felt. 

"Drink this." The command came from above as a cool glass vile was pressed against his cracked lips. Stupidly, he tried to turn away but a hand held him steady. "Don't be an idiot, boy." 

Prying his teeth apart with some effort, Harry allowed the viscous liquid to be poured into his mouth. He crinkled his nose as he forced his throat to contract, pushing the potion down past the lump that had formed. The taste was terrible; somewhere between copper and licorice; however, its effects were immediate. 

Cautiously, Harry lowered his head to survey the cellar. Voldemort was across the room handing the empty vial back to Snape, before returning to stand in front of him. He hesitantly allowed his eyes to travel to his injured leg, however, he found it completely healed. Blood was still puddled around him, but there was no sign that a knife had been lodged in his thigh moments earlier. 

His confusion must have shown on his face because Voldemort suddenly gave a small chuckle. 

"You might have blacked out for a moment," he said casually. He withdrew his wand from inside his pocket and drew up his own chair. He sat down directly across from Harry and let out a sigh. 

"There might still be some discomfort." Reaching out a hand, he gripped Harry's thigh with a strong squeeze. A sharp pain like lightning forked its way down Harry's leg and he let out a surprised gasp. "But I fixed the vital parts." 

Pulling a handkerchief from inside his cloak, he sat back and began to rub at his stained hands with a natural indifference as if he were merely wiping away some dirt.

"Now, where were you and Dumbledore tonight?"

Harry shook his head, his brain working quickly to manifest a believable lie. "I don't…" 

"Careful, Potter," Voldemort warned without looking up from his hands. "Don't get cold feet now." 

Swallowing his fear, Harry calmly recited the first thing that popped into his mind.

"He took me to see the orphanage where you grew up." 

Voldemort's eyes leveled with Harry's, an indiscernible look passing over his face. The corners of his mouth fell into a confused smile as his eyebrows knitted together. It was the first time Harry had seen him falter that night; however, it didn't last long. He regained his cocky composure and pursed his lips. 

"And what did you think of my summer home," he asked. Apparently content with the cleanliness of his hands, he tucked the cloth back into his pocket. 

A million red flags were raised in Harry's mind, warning him of the trap that was being lain before him.

"Hard to judge something that's no longer there," he croaked in response. 

Voldemort gave a small snort of laughter seemingly satisfied with the answer.

"Wonderful place," he said sarcastically. "Not unlike where you spend your summers. I suppose it's where my disdain for muggles truly began." 

"You thought you were better than them," Harry corrected recklessly. 

"I was better than them," Voldemort hissed, leaning forward to stare Harry in the eye. "However, that is neither here nor there. May I ask why Dumbledore found this important for you to see?" 

Forcing a shrug, Harry tried to tame the anxiety now clawing at his stomach. His lie was unraveling quickly and he scrambled to find an answer. 

"Something about knowing your enemy." 

"And what vital information could a trip to a nonexistent orphanage give you?" 

"That you're just as human as the rest of us."

The words were out of his mouth before he could fully comprehend his mistake. Voldemort's crooked grin shifted to a malicious sneer, as the silence fell between them. Instead of backing down, Harry set his jaw and stared arrogantly back into the face of danger. 

Reaching out a steady hand, Voldemort gave Harry's seat a simple push that rocked his chair back onto two legs before toppling over entirely. Without the use of his arms, there was nothing Harry could do to control his descent. At the mercy of gravity, he tightened his muscles, bracing for impact. 

With a crack, the chair back struck the floor, pushing the wooden spindles painfully into his spine and forcing the air from his lungs. The back of his head met the unforgiving stone once again in a teeth-rattling collision that sent stars blossoming across the wooden rafters above. He blinked several times trying to chase away the lights obscuring his vision. 

"You should know by now what cheek earn-" 

The sentence stopped suddenly. Turning his aching head, Harry found Voldemort standing a few paces away, eyes fixed on the floor to Harry's right. Following his gaze, Harry saw something shiny lying beside him; something that flooded his veins with icy cold water. 

"Get out," the Dark Lord said quietly to the room, but Harry knew he was addressing Snape. All pretenses of amusement were gone, replaced instead with a cold fury waiting to be released. 

Snape didn't move, confused by the sudden change of atmosphere. "My Lord," he asked, eyes darting to Harry and then back to the man who stood rooted to the spot. "I should stay in case…" 

"GET OUT," Voldemort roared without turning his gaze to Snape. 

Hesitantly, Snape backed to the door and with one more fleeting glance at Harry, he was gone. 

Voldemort closed the gap and bent over to retrieve the item. Returning to full height, Harry could see him examining the way it swung between his long fingers, its golden surface refracting light across the room. It was a locket; a large simple gold locket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Harry gets the locket after Dumbledore dies, but for the story sake let's pretend he already had it.


End file.
